


Unfair

by autisticblueteam



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anger, Arguing, Autistic Character, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, RvB Rare Pair Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 13:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticblueteam/pseuds/autisticblueteam
Summary: After the explosive Bjørndal debriefing, Carolina finds South and tries to make it up to her.





	Unfair

“Think I should talk to her?”

There was a sharp crack as the panel at the door broke, sparks crackling where it tore away from the wall. South kicked the screen on its way down for good measure, glass shattering over the ground. Huffing and rolling her shoulders, she disappeared around the corner.

North shook his head with a quiet sigh. “Maybe we give her a minute.”

Carolina nodded, though her gaze didn’t leave the now juddering doors.

Behind them, there was a sigh and a muttered order to summon maintenance, which was their final cue to leave.

They de-suited in silence. Out of the corner of her eye Carolina caught sight of the bandages still covering North’s wounds—stark white against the grey of the locker room—before he dragged on a shirt. Raising his hand in a quick wave, he turned and headed back towards the bunks. Left the room somehow quieter.

Snapping a hair-tie around the bottom of her braid, Carolina sighed and stood up. She figured that minute had passed.

The halls of the _Mother of Invention_ were still. Most of the other agents would be in bed at this hour, but North had been discharged from medical and the Björndal debriefing had been called despite the time. Three days they’d waited for North to recover enough for the mission to be officially closed. _Three days_. The tension on the bridge that night had built up until it was so thick a bullet wouldn’t pass through it.

South had barely spoken to her in those three days. Even the previous night, when she came to her bunk and clambered into bed beside her, she didn’t say a word. Only draped an arm haphazardly over her side and huffed. They both settled down, but Carolina hadn’t slept a wink and she wasn’t sure that South had, either.

The anger that radiated from her was palpable. Anger that was directed at her, at least in part.

All she’d done was follow her orders. What else South expected of her she didn’t know. It wasn’t like she could just say no to the Director, refuse to get on the Pelican and stay behind—even if she’d wanted to.

Carolina sighed.

It didn’t take long for her to find South in the silence of the ship. The heavy thumps of her fists against the punching bag were audible from down the hall, her frustrated grunts and groans not far behind. Green light shone from above the door. An invitation, at least in South’s language.

The door slid open with a quiet beep.

_THUD._

“Fucking dumbass fucking bullshit fucking—” Streams of curses punctuated every punch, the chain rattling violently and competing with every other syllable. “Fucking cocksucking asshole fuck—”

“South?” Carolina said, her voice deliberately even. The two-one rhythm of the hits faltered slightly, but caught itself. “Are you alright?” she continued, flinching at herself.

South snorted, slammed her fist into the bag so hard that it smacked against the wall. “Am I fucking _alright?_ Yeah, sure, I’m fucking _fine._ Dropped from the spot I’ve been working my ass off to keep for fucking _weeks_ , because our fucking science professor of a Director doesn’t fucking get that putting _unnecessary_ _hard fucking time limits_ on a _stealth mission_ doesn’t fucking work, but yeah. I’m fucking _alright._ ”

“South…” It was a thoughtless question, she knew that. Why couldn’t talking to upset people be easy? “You’ll make the difference back up in no time. It’s only a minor—”

“Minor fucking setback, yeah yeah.” Another slam of her fist, the stilling bag jolted again. “Easy for you to say. Fucking— sending you in after us, like he _knew_ we were gonna fail. You know how fucking _patronising_ that is? Number four on the fucking board and they send me in with a _babysitter._ ”

Huffing, she started tugging at the wraps around her fists.

Carolina sighed quietly, reached behind her to lock the door as she stepped further into the room. “I was sent along as an precaution, nothing more.”

“Yeah, like I said, _babysitter._ Two, actually. North fucking bitching in my ear the whole goddamn time, like that fucking helps.” The material of the wrap got caught under another flap and she grunted, tugging at it hard. “Fucking thing—”

“Let me.” Carolina approached her, holding her hands out.

“I can do it myself,” South mumbled, even as she shoved the hand towards Carolina. Taking it, she carefully freed the material and started to unwrap the rest. “It’s gonna take weeks to get back up.”

“It won’t—”

South cut her off with another snort.

“Oh it fucking will and you know it, Carolina,” she bit. Carolina carefully finished unwinding the wraps on one hand and took the other, starting the process over. “I worked fucking hard to keep that spot but I fuck up _once_ , fucking— once! And— _ugh!_ ”

“It won’t take you weeks, South.”

Tugging her hands back, South tore the wrap away and threw it. “Shut the fuck up, like you fucking know _shit_. When was the last time you dropped any fucking lower than the top fucking spot, huh? When was the last fucking time you had to claw your fucking way back up?”

Exhaling, Carolina’s fingernails dug into her palms. “South—”

“No, really, when? Because _fuck_ its easy to fucking say that it’s gonna be so _easy_ when you’ve never had to work for shit _anyway_!” South snapped, throwing her arms out. Always so expressive, her entire body speaking for her just as much as her words. It made her so much easier to read than anyone else, circumvented Carolina’s usual issues with the subtleties of body language.

But it made her anger feel all the more vitriolic.

“That’s _not_ fair,” Carolina said, the sharp sting of her nails burying into her skin.

South snorted again, spun on her heel and walked away. Stopped at the wall, slammed her palms against it and turned to look back over her shoulder.

“You know what else isn’t fucking fair? That you get to sit pretty up there at the top of the fucking board whilst I have to fucking put up with being punted down whole ranks at a time for shit that _isn’t my fault_.” The weight of her eyes pushed down on Carolina, but Carolina gritted her teeth and pushed back.

“That’s not _my_ fault either, South!” she retaliated. Swiping the wraps from the floor, she balled them tight in her fists. “You know _damn_ well I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, South. Don’t you _dare_ imply that I don’t work for it. I came here to talk to you because you’re my girlfriend and you were upset, do _not_ make me regret that by treating me like I’m the enemy.”

There was a single beat of silence… and then South’s shoulders dropped. “ _Shit_ …”

As the heavy weight of tension tumbled away from her, she let her head fall against the wall and took deep breaths. Smacking her palms against the wall one more time she huffed and spun on her heel, arms folding loosely under her chest but beckoning for Carolina to come closer.

Sighing, Carolina crossed the distance between them and rested a hand on her arm. Caressing slowly over the muscles and the scars, she glanced up and met South’s eyes for the briefest of moments before the discomfort pressing at the front of her skull was too much. The moment her gaze flickered away, South’s hand cupped her cheek.

“Fuck, babe, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice now softer. The undercurrent of frustration hadn’t faded entirely, but it was no longer aimed in her direction. Leaning into the warmth of her hand against her face, Carolina exhaled. “You’re not the fucking enemy. I know all that shit, I _do_ , just— _fuck._ I’m so fucking tired of this shit, Lina.”

“I know.” Raising her own hand to the back of South’s, her thumb rubbed circles against the skin. “I’m not trying to... dismiss, that, it’s just—”

“That you’re kinda shit at comforting people?” South said, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Scratching faintly behind Carolina’s ear, fingers brushing through her hair, she teased, “Yeah, I fucking noticed.”

“I can still leave, you know,” Carolina countered, without conviction. “…I’ll train with you. Help you boost your numbers.”

South snorted. “You kicking my ass does not help boost my numbers babe.”

“It doesn’t have to be sparring. We can do _that_ off the record, you might even learn something.” She pressed a kiss to South’s palm and squeezed the back of her hand. South rolled her eyes, but that hint of a smirk had spread.

“You work _too_ fucking hard,” she said, and from her it didn’t sound like an insult. Like an admonishment. From her, it was this strange mix of praise and concern that took Carolina a moment to place. “That’s fucking where my anger-fuelled cockshit of a brain is really wrong. You work too fucking hard babe, its gonna be the death of you.”

Responding would be too much like admitting something. Too much like acknowledging everything that she’d rather not face.

So she didn’t respond.

South— bless South because she never pushed, she never knowingly overstepped boundaries she had no right to overstep. If she caught the hesitation, the way Carolina tensed, she didn’t say a word. The roughened pad of her thumb brushed over her cheekbone and she guided her in for the kind of gentle kiss so many would call uncharacteristic, but that Carolina had become well acquainted with.

Despite all her hard edges, her bite, her anger… South knew when to be soft.

The pressure of her lips slowly faded, South stepping back and standing straight, but Carolina’s arms hooked around her neck and she followed her. Stole another kiss away, eyes scrunched shut and their noses knocking together. Strands of hair fell against Carolina’s face and nearly poked her in the eye, quickly swept away by swift fingers and tucked behind South’s ear.

“Feeling better?” she said softly, letting one hand fall to rest against her chest. Behind her neck, she still clutched the discarded wraps.

“I could fucking lie and say yeah, but— nah, not really.” South laughed dryly, shook her head. “Fuck me, I took it out on you. That was a real bitch move. And shit, babe I love you but you talking to me still doesn’t change the fact I got fucking— kicked down a spot on the board and fucking talked down to.”

“Okay.” It wouldn’t have been any different had their positions been switched, Carolina could hardly deny that. Comfort… it meant something, but it didn’t erase multiple days, weeks or months of frustration and hurt. “Thank you for being honest.”

Another snort. Funny how that noise became almost comforting in its familiarity. “Agreed to be, didn’t we? Look, fuck— thank you, for coming after my ass. You didn’t have to fucking do that.”

Carolina shrugged. “You’d come after me.”

“Damn fucking right I would. Even if I _am_ as dickshit at comfort as you are.”

“I suppose we are both pretty bad at this,” Carolina said with a sigh and a half-smile. Running her finger along the seam of South’s sports bra, enjoying the uneven pressure against her skin, her gaze flickered up to meet South’s for another fleeting moment. “I’m sorry that I intervened today. But I have to follow my orders and in the end, I can’t say I’m not glad I was there. You’re capable,” she said, South’s mouth snapping back shut, “but that machine gun turret nearly took both you and your brother out. I’d rather not know what would have happened if it hadn’t been the three of us.”

“Ugh,” South huffed, pulling Carolina’s hand up from her chest to shake it around, “why do you have to make fucking sense, huh?” Pressing Carolina’s knuckles against her lips, she exhaled. “Fuck. Look, yeah, I know you gotta do what you’re fucking told but I _hate_ that you get told to do that shit. That fair?”

“That’s fair.”

“Good. Because it’s real fucking shitass. Shit, I know this shit’s gonna happen and I know you’re not doing shit to spite me but _fuck_ , it sure feels like the Director is.” Carolina’s teeth buried into her lip. Dropping her hand, South stepped away and shrugged back into the upper body of her suit. “If I’d fucking set those trackers like North kept jabbering about I’d have gone over time and been punished anyway. Can’t fucking win around here.”

Nothing about this was fair, no, but what were they supposed to do about it?

Staying quiet, Carolina held out the wraps. South dumped them inside her helmet along with her gloves, sighed and turned to the pile of armour by the wall. She must have come straight here.

“I’ll help you carry your armour back to the locker room.”

“Thanks babe.”

Together they gathered up the discarded pieces of South’s armour, a comfortable quiet filling the room. The tension hadn’t faded away entirely, but there was always an underlying tension here. But three days of silence were over. They’d talked, they’d apologised, they were _trying—_ that was what mattered. That meant more than words spat in anger.

“You know what you are?” Carolina asked, not hiding the amused smile on her face as she hip-checked the door lock. South raised a brow. “A swearsaurus.” South stared at her, unblinking, and Carolina muffled a laugh. “You know. A thesaurus of swears.”

A beat.

South _laughed_.

Real laughter, not that dry, humourless sound from before. The kind of genuine laugh that seemed to be growing rarer and rarer these days. Carolina enjoyed the look on her face as she backed out of the room, amused smile now a grin.

“Sometimes, I fucking forget that you do that,” South said through lingering laughter, kicking back at the door control as they left. “Your fucking terrible puns. Fuck.”

“I’m hardly wrong.”

“Nope, but its still a terrible fucking joke.”

“Made you laugh,” Carolina said, casting her a cheeky smile as she turned on her heel. “I’ll take it.”

That night, South was back in her bed and back to her usual self. No more uncomfortable, unnatural silence; just a warm body at her back and the attitude she’d come to know and love. Things would always be complicated, but dammit they were _trying_.

That had to count for something.


End file.
